


And We Dance

by TehChou



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Faeries - Freeform, Gen, Horror, Kid Fic, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/pseuds/TehChou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The earth is dry today, as it is everyday. It sits beneath his hands and the wind stirs it, settling a fine layer of dust over everything; it is grey and uniform. The sun beats down on it, the rays dancing merrily over head, never reaching down to brush against those below. His breath puffs out in wisps of smoke.</p><p>Written for this prompt on the kink meme: http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/8846.html?thread=20163726#t20163726</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Dance

The earth is dry today, as it is everyday. It sits beneath his hands and the wind stirs it, settling a fine layer of dust over everything; it is grey and uniform. The sun beats down on it, the rays dancing merrily over head, never reaching down to brush against those below. His breath puffs out in wisps of smoke.

He twists a withered knot of grey grass into a helpless tangle, the flames reflect in his eyes orange and bright and he scuffs his heel in the dirt. The furnace heats a long stripe up his side, a heavy contrast to the naked air. He tosses the knot between the grate, into the flames, turns his face to watch it wither and writhe. Something moves, shatters and crashes, sending up a cloud of ash. A few of the bright sparks land in the grey dirt beside him. He turns his head down to watch it fade and die against the dirt.

"Hello," a voice curls into his awareness. Erik blinks upwards and looks into the face of a boy, little older then he. He is smiling and bright with eyes as blue as his mother's sky. He reaches a hand out to brush against a pale leg, purple veins showing beneath translucent skin. The boy's smiles grows, stretches, sprawls across his face. "Hello," He repeats. Erik swallows dirt and ash and snatches his hand back.

"Hullo," he mumbles, voice like sullen marbles, those colorful ribbons encased in clear glass, remote and unyielding. The boy kneels in the dust beside him. He lays a hand against his head and leans close, brushing his lips against his ear. Erik listens, holding himself carefully still until finally, he nods. He gets up and goes with him. The boy's long and spindly legs are clean and untouched by the dirt. Flames sway towards their retreating figures, clawing and clamoring with voices wrecked by heat and fire. Erik only spare one glance back as a final goodbye. It's not as if he knows any of them by name.

"You're not alone," the boy whispers and Erik believes.

 

He is sweet to him, whispers in his ear and gives to him with the heart of water, pouring and spilling and splashing against his soul. It fills him up fit to bursting, straining at the seams.

Men fall at his feet, twisting and yelling with the voices of women. He watches them, hand fit into his and is unsatisfied.

It is not until they are still that he feels warm.

 

His former friends watch him, mouths contorted as they cry out. He cannot hear them, he remains untouched when the boy wraps his arms around him. Their warmth catches his attention and he watches as he shows him a different form of entertainment.

These ones dance for days. Their skinny and bloated forms turn and spin and jump, cavorting and dancing. They stir the dust into wild clouds, storms that blow past them, ruffling his hair. His new friend has them sing for him, holding out hands full of rocks and pebbles they swear are flowers. He touches them and frowns. They are not flowers, he tells them and they spin away to rejoin the horde. The boy's smile stretches across his face like red petals.

Eventually they, too are all still and Erik kicks his feet, sitting atop a crumbling wall. The boy is not paying attention to him, he is looking out across the yard, past fences rimmed with metal rose vines. Erik shivers. He knows what that building is housed to, knows the alien world held within it. The metal roses sing and it sounds like angry cracks. He looks away, grabs tighter onto his hand. They've cleaned his hands, pink and new.

He cradles Erik's hands in his face, warm points turning him to look into eyes so wide that Erik swims in them. Erik parts his lips and buries his face in a skinny shoulder.

"You're not alone," he repeats, wrapped around him until he is safe and warm.

 

The Doktor terrifies him. His rage licks against him like the flames of the furnace are before him, once again. It offers no comfort, only sharp, cutting steel tempered in molten fire. Erik tugs against the grip his friend has on his hand, but he is unyielding, like the rocks the others told him were flowers. He does not want to go, does not want to see, but he goes anyways; the tide straining into the pull of the moon. His hand burns, acid, and Erik cries out.

But the Doktor reaches nightmare hands out to him and he recoils, bares his teeth and bites. Red blood blooms and the Doktor stares at it in quiet shock. He looks up, mouth spitting vicious anger, but Erik smells the fear in the air and knows that it is no longer his.

The boy is again smiling at his side. He holds out his other hand, fingers unfurling like a bud. Silver winks against his palm, singing to him like the rose vines do. Erik tries to take it from his hand as beside them the Doktor rages against invisible walls, but the boy snaps his hand shut. He shakes his head, tutting and holds it out, once, again. Tentatively, creaky with newness, Erik reaches out with the invisible tendril in his mind. He taps against the silver, asking permission and it agrees, floating into the air before them. The boy beams and Erik's heart beats like a phoenix in his chest.

The Doktor's flesh is warm around the silver. Erik can feel it pulsing against it, can feel it stutter, then slow, then stop. The boy claps his hands in glee.

Erik remembers a smile.


End file.
